


Back By Popular Demand

by neeeeeeeeep



Category: The Boys (TV 2019), The Boys - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Hate Sex, Injury, Multi, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sexual Tension, Superheroes, Swearing, Violence, veteran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neeeeeeeeep/pseuds/neeeeeeeeep
Summary: After years of killing people, first as a Marine and then as a freelance ‘problem fixer’, you decided you were done with that life. But just as your life started to look normal, Billy Butcher showed up at your door banged up and bloody, reminding you that no matter how much you tried - you could never really leave that life behind.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/You, Billy Butcher/reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	Back By Popular Demand

**Author's Note:**

> hi, it’s me, your favourite non-committing, fandom-jumping piece of trash writer, back with another fic i may or may not complete!
> 
> ngl, after hearing Jensen Ackles was joining The Boys for season 3, I binged the shit out of the first season and finished it in a day. ofc, Billy Butcher caught my eye - because who else would I latch onto other than a foul-mouth, damaged piece of trash? 
> 
> naturally, I was inspired to explore some fanfic and ofc that led to me writing the first chapter within an hour of me reading a few fics on her. I really enjoyed it, and hopefully you will too!
> 
> disclaimer: all content is based on and inspired by the TV show. I have not read the comics (nor will I ever bc I don’t have the patience for that kind of literature, too many panels and speech bubbles to focus on lmao) so everything is based on what has been seen in season 1 of Amazon’s The Boys. that being said, there will probably be a lot of shit I make up too, cuz, y’know, fanfic rules.

There was one person in the whole world you couldn’t stand. One person who, whenever you even heard his name, caused your blood to boil and your skin to crawl. One person who, if given the chance, you would gladly punch in the face. 

And he just happened to be at your doorstep right now.

“Evening, love,” said the one and only, Billy Butcher, with the _biggest_ shit-eating grin on his blood-splattered and dishevelled face. “Mind if I come in?”

He looked like he’d gone twelve rounds with a brick; his cheekbones clearly cut and bruised like he’d gotten struck by something hard, his bottom lip split open and dripping blood down his chin, and his knuckles — you noticed as he leaned on your doorframe like a fucking prick — were bloody, too. He was clearly a mess, and must have been _desperate_ for help if he had come to _you_ of all people. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So, you slammed the door in his face and started walking back into your living room.

“Oi! You better fucking open this door, you little bitch, otherwise I’m kicking it in!” Butcher yelled as he banged on your door.

You smirked as you grabbed your freshly-poured glass of wine and sat back down on your couch, yelling back as you did, “I told you, Butcher. I’m never helping you again!”

“Come on, love! I’m a fucking mess right now — just need to clean myself up and I’ll be out of your hair in no time!”

You didn’t reply, instead blocking out his consistent banging on your door and yells to let him in. You’d grown used to blocking out Billy Butcher’s shit — you’d worked with him for years before, and it was one of the reasons you despised him. He always managed to get himself into trouble, regardless of the difficulty of the job. You just didn’t have the patience for it anymore.

Finally, he stopped. All fell quiet and you were allowed to go back to watching your show. Except, something didn’t feel right. Billy Butcher didn’t give up that easily, and you knew something was off with the situation.

You paused your show again and set your glass of wine back down with a frustrated sigh. You checked through the window to see if Billy was still at your front door, but he was gone. Then, you checked the windows in the other rooms just to make sure he wasn’t outside. _Maybe he just left_ , you thought to yourself as you noticed there were no signs of Butcher anywhere, until you got to your kitchen and saw the handle of your back door moving, the familiar sign of someone trying to pick your lock telling you _exactly_ where Butcher was.

You glared and marched over to the door; unlocking it and pulling it open, Butcher nearly falling over from how quickly he’d jumped back at your sudden appearance.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” you growled, your eyes narrowed as you looked over at the dark-haired Brit.

“What the fuck do you _think_ I’m fucking doing, huh, cunt? You left me out on my arse when I _clearly_ need fucking help! Some fucking friend you are, mate,” he retorted, stepping forward defensively. He seemed to be holding his right side as he moved; probably an injury to the ribs that you also didn’t give a fuck about.

“So you try and break into my house? You’re something else, Butcher. A real piece of shit, and _definitely_ not my friend.”

“Well, if you’d just let me fucking in, we wouldn’t be in this mess now, would we? Plus, the longer I’m out here in the open, the less likely I’m going to get caught by the cunts following me, so let me in now or I’ll sit out here all night and you can deal with the supes when they arrive.”

You glared even more, your face turning red as your body filled with rage. “You led them _here?!_ What are you, a fucking amateur? Why didn’t you go to a safe house?!”

“It’s too far away! I don’t have a fucking car — they blew it up! You were the closest to me and I’m too banged up to go further.”

You let out a groan of irritation, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to process the situation. This is what he did — he _involved_ people. People who didn’t want to be involved. You’d been out of the game for years now and had finally managed to build up a life that resembled a modicum of normality. No more killing, no more ‘life or death’ situations. Just boring, everyday things that normal people did. And this prick had ruined that within the space of minutes just by showing up.

“For fuck’s sake, get your ass in here, dumbass,” you spoke finally, after having a small back and forth to yourself in your own head. You tugged him in by his jacket and slammed the door behind him, locking it again and drawing all the curtains in the kitchen. “Ice is in the bottom shelf of the freezer, first aid is in the cupboard under the sink. Don’t make a mess.”

You didn’t even look as you spat your instructions at him, making your way to draw the curtains throughout the rest of the house and ensure the windows and doors were securely locked.

When you returned, Butcher had his coat and shirt off, pressing a covered bag of ice against his ribs. They were probably broken, and from experience you knew that was a son-of-a-bitch to deal with, so you grabbed some pain killers and a fifth of whisky from their respected places in the kitchen, placing them down in front of him.

“Thanks, love. See, I knew you could be nice.”

“Not by choice. Don’t push your luck.”

You took a seat opposite Butcher on the island stools. You watched him as he threw some pills back with a shot of whisky, grimacing at the strength of the liquor, but then taking another drink after.

“Tell me what shit you’ve gotten into now,” you demanded.

“Oh, y’know, the usual. Just some nosy supes got wind of our little mission to find the main source of Compound V and who’s dealing. They weren’t too happy about the idea of their dealers getting taken out,” he explained very nonchalantly as he stood up from the stool and walked over to the sink. You watched as he wet a paper towel and pressed it tentatively to the wounds on his face.

“Compound V? What’s that?”

Butcher chuckled, a slight smirk on his lips. “You’ve been out of the game too long, love,” he started, his face twitching under the sting of the damp cloth on his cheek. “It’s what makes supes, supes. We found out they pump it into the newborns and it gives them their powers. Every supe is a lab rat, not some God’s gift to the human race like they’ve always claimed. Always knew it. Arrogant pricks.”

Perking your brows up at this revelation, you nodded. “Wow, isn’t that the plot twist of the century.”

“Yup. So we’re trying to get hold of it and stop production. No Compound V, no Vought, no supes. A brighter future for us all.”

“If only it were that easy.”

“Well, we could always use some help. Say, from one of the most badass Veterans I’ve ever met,” he hinted, shooting you another smirk.

“No, Butcher. I told you, I’m done. I’ve been fighting all my life, I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m out.”

You’d been in the Marines from the day you turned eighteen to the age of twenty-seven. Nearly ten years of your life on the front lines, seeing things no human should ever see, and you just grew exhausted of it. You resigned from the armed forces and took up freelance work for whoever required your services – mostly people wanting to scare others who owed them money or fucked them over, sometimes meaning you had to break a few legs or cut a few fingers off. Child’s play compared to what you’d experienced in the Marines. That was when you met Billy, on a job that ran you into some supes. Admittedly, he did save your ass — burst in at the right time and bought you time to gain back an advantage — but apparently he thought that gave him the right to be an asshole ever since. You worked with him for a bit, but after the last job you did with him, that nearly got you killed _because_ of him, you decided you were done with that life.

“You and I both know nobody is ever out of this game.”

“I don’t care, Butcher. You can say whatever you want — I’m done. You can’t say anything to change my mind.”

“We’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes and got off the island stool, making your way back to the living room before he could try and convince you more. “Patch yourself up quickly. I want peace by the time my next show starts.”

“What the fuck are you — a middle aged housewife?” Billy teased.

“Fuck you, Butcher.”

* * *

You couldn’t remember when you fell asleep. You could only recall pouring your 3rd glass of wine before everything seemed to blur together. Regardless, you woke up on the couch, a blanket over your body and your neck stiff from the awkward position you’d fallen asleep in.

You fell in and out of sleep for about an hour or so, before the smell of bacon finally pulled you from your slumber. _Bacon? Huh?_

You slowly sat up, stretching the stiffness out of your neck and allowing your body to wake up, before you followed the scent of sizzling pig to your kitchen. There you found Butcher, frying up a pan of delicious looking bacon as he hummed along to the radio playing lowly on the windowsill.

“What in the fuck are you still doing here?” you questioned, voice groggy with a hint of morning grumpiness in it, scratching your head as you headed straight to the coffee maker, which had a freshly brewed pot waiting for you. You grabbed a cup and poured yourself some.

“Ah, there she is. Good morning, sunshine!” he said, that familiar shit-eating, purposely irritating grin on his face. “I left you to your wine last night, love. Didn’t take long before you passed out on the couch, and then I just took the liberty of showering in your lovely en-suite and curling up in your queen-sized bed. Beautiful floral duvet, by the way.”

“What the fuck? I didn’t say you could do that.”

“You were too unconscious for me to ask. Besides, you looked so peaceful while you slept, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

His tone was teasing and his face was covered in asshole-smirk. Dick. If you weren’t still half asleep you would kick him out then and there. But... coffee first.

“Fuck you, Butcher,” you grumbled, taking a seat at the island counter and sipping your coffee.

“As you keep saying. Listen, love, just tell me where and when,” he said smugly as he walked over to you with a plate of bacon and toast, setting it down in front of you.

You were torn. Those words deserved at least a slap, but the fact he’d just gave you food… “You’re lucky you just put that plate down there, otherwise I’d have to kill you.”

Billy answered with a chuckle as he took a seat down opposite you with his own plate of food and a coffee.

The two of you ate in silence, and by the time you were done with your last strip of bacon, you felt like yourself again. Awake, alert and ready for the day. Well, whatever that meant with Billy Butcher sitting in your kitchen.

“I’m gonna shower. Will you be here when I’m back?”

It wasn’t really a question aimed to sound like you actually cared; you just liked to know when assholes were in your house or not.

“Maybe. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

You rolled your eyes as you dumped your plate in the sink and headed upstairs to your en-suite bathroom. You let the water flow run for a couple minutes to come to temperature before stepping in, enjoying the water as it hit your skin soothingly. You tried to enjoy your showers now you were out of the military — they had only allowed 3 minute showers while you were in their service, and so you only saw them as another chore until you escaped that madness. Now, you took as long as you wanted and took them whenever you wanted, too.

Twenty minutes later, you stepped out of the bathroom in just a towel. You allowed it to pool at your ankles once you’d dried off a little and padded across the carpet to your wardrobe, picking out your outfit for the day.

However, you were very quickly interrupted as Billy popped his head in while you were stark naked in front of your wardrobe.

“Y/N, listen, I’m gonna head out. Thanks for the—woah, fucking hell, love!” he exclaimed as he practically jumped out of the room after walking in on you.

You, too, had a similar reaction as you scurried to grab your towel and cover up. “Fuck’s sake, Butcher, haven’t you heard of knocking?!”

“Shit—I’m sorry! Didn’t think you’d be starkers!”

You let out a noise of frustration. “Right, well—what do you want?”

“Just came to tell you I’m off, and thanks for the hospitality — Christ!”

“Right, fuck off then!”

“Fucking hell, can you stop being a cunt for one second?” Billy barged into the room, irritation on his face as he pointed a finger at you. “I wanted to say to you, if you fancy anymore work, we could use the hand on this job, but fuck it if you’re just going to be a moody cow all the time.”

“Butcher, get the fuck out!” you practically screamed as you held your towel against you as tight as you could.

“Fuck it! I’m out of here.”

Billy turned around and marched out of your room, acting as if _you’d_ done something to wrong.

“Fuck you, Butcher!”

“Fuck you, too, Y/N!” you heard from a distance, before your front door slammed shut.

Why did every interaction you have with Billy fucking Butcher have to leave you all hot and bothered — and not in the good way?

**Author's Note:**

> there we go, first chapter done. already lots of tension and definitely more to come! 
> 
> lemme know what ya think, lovelies! any feedback is appreciative - especially since this is my first try writing for this fandom <3


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